The Study Of Dr Watson
by Sociopath454893
Summary: A spin-off take on BBC Sherlock, written from Sherlock's POV. Rated T at the moment. Eventual Johnlock slash.
1. Why Does Everything Need A Title?

_**A/N: Kind of AU as I have changed the story a little. You'll get what I mean. Don't worry, there will be more chapters. This story is dedicated to my good friend Niamh.**_

* * *

The taxi rolled to a stop at the front of Speedy's Café and I hopped out with a spring in my step, handing the driver a twenty from my coat pocket with a swift, "Keep the change." I didn't really catch the mumbled 'thank-you' that followed as he sped away along Baker Street, but instead glanced up at the stone building to try to decipher its past. By the bricking it was obvious that it had been built in the 19th century and on closer inspection, the windowsills were newly painted and the windows recently cleaned. The owner clearly wished to make a good impression which may imply that the flat had been up for sale for some time. It was most likely that it would be a land-lady who owned the property for I didn't know many men who would take such care and effort into preserving something so simple. Given that the outside was furnished neatly, the landlady didn't have a husband and instead hired professionals to complete the job. Now taking the information that she was not wed, there are two ages that could be implied: elderly or mid-twenties. However, the earlier deductions suggest an older woman, kind and well-kept but hard headed at that. She would have to be to get into the property market as a landlady these days.

Another way, however, to judge the personality of others is to, of course, meet them. I knocked confidently on the door and stood back, waiting for the answer. Checking the time I wondered where Dr Watson was; I couldn't go through with the deal without him. I was sure that he didn't have a girlfriend and as an Afghanistan war veteran with a trauma induced injury, he had no job either. Therefore no excuse to be late and he would soon learn that I appreciate punctuality.

The door opened to reveal exactly the woman I had imagined, slightly smaller and innocent looking- but it was close enough. As I greeted her in the warmest expression I could conjure from this cold day, I heard another's footsteps follow closely behind. The weak step on the right leg and the slight tap of a cane on the paved steps gave for an easy deduction. I didn't even bother to turn and proceeded to climb the stairs- which unfortunately were not as well-kept as I had suspected. The wallpaper was dull and there was limited light, however I could tell by the missed patches of dust on the banister that she had been in a rush to clean the place. I couldn't quite figure out why. I decided not to ponder on it for too long, it was probably just a case of bingo at the community centre.

I continued to inspect the building as I moved into the main flat, walking swiftly enough that I had removed both my coat and scarf by the time John and Mrs Hudson had had time to hobble up the steps. Mrs Hudson arrived through the door first and immediately began to plump the cushions, "What do you think then boys? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two."

I smiled inwardly as John's face dropped in a sort of confused horror, "Yes, we'll be needing two."

Mrs Hudson's expression fell awkward; she must have misjudged the relationship between John and me. I decided to break the silence, "No husband, Mrs Hudson? I hate to be rude but I noticed you don't wear your wedding ring. Bad break up?"

"Oh no, nothing of the sort; let's just say he had a run in with the wrong people and I wasn't exactly sad to see him go. Now anyway, back onto the flat, will you be taking it?"

I looked at John expectedly, "It's a nice place; it looks expensive though." He said, looking around as if to find something extra-ordinary in the room.

"Mrs Hudson, I'm sure you would be glad to finally have tenants and so we would be extremely grateful if you were to cut us some sort of deal." It was a long shot and I felt bad for playing on the facts that I had deduced earlier but nonetheless it was worth a try.

"Of course, I can't stretch far but I suppose I can do something."

"There we go John; between us we should be able to afford the property- if you are happy that is. However, I must warn you that I am not the most joyous of flatmates and I hope you are okay with the smell of tobacco and the sound of a violin; I assure you that I can play."

"I'm sure I will be able to cope." He said with a smile.

* * *

Later on that evening I received a call from Lestrade (an inspector at Scotland Yard) confirming a fourth suicide in the area. This time they had left a note and of course, the police and forensics were completely stuck for clues as to the link. I jumped up from my seat and threw on my scarf and coat, "Are you coming?"

"Where to?" He seemed startled by the sudden movement so I slowed up and pulled out my phone from my pocket and handed him the computerised notes.

"Scotland Yard just called about a case they need solving; which reminds me that I never informed you about my line of work. I am a consulting detective and the only one to which I know of. A fourth suicide has just been uncovered and they want me to head down and try to figure it out. I'll be needing an assistant."

"Am I even allowed to do that?"

"If I say so, yes. Now hurry up, murderers don't wait for us to dawdle."

"I thought you said this was a suicide."

"There wouldn't be a case if it was a suicide, would there John? Use your brain for once."

We hopped inside the first cab we could flag down and headed for the crime scene.

* * *

"Where's the suitcase?"

"What suitcase?" Lestrade looked confused- what an idiot.

"The suitcase she was pulling with her right arm. Use your eyes; there's mud at the back of her right leg. The height and width suggest a small, overnight bag." I leant down to check the underside of her collar- it was still wet. But her umbrella was dry; must have been too windy. I checked my phone for the weather updates, "Cardiff." I mumbled.

"What?" John and Lestrade exclaimed in perfect unison, I wished they would stop doing that.

"Cardiff. I don't want to have to explain it, just trust me on this one." As much as I wanted my intelligence to be noted, now wasn't the time; even though I did want to hear Dr Watson tell me how amazing my deductions were again. Nobody had ever said that before.

"Your time's up Sherlock, it's the professionals turn." Anderson wandered in smugly, arms crossed as he leant against the doorframe.

"Don't talk out loud, Anderson, you lower the IQ of the entire street." I knew exactly what I needed to do; I rushed through the door without a thought to John who hobbled after me. I needed to find the case. Find the case, I find the killer. I loved the feeling when clever people made stupid mistakes.

* * *

Back at the flat, I rummaged through the pink case I had found in a skip not far from Northumberland Street. It took less than an hour to find, it wasn't exactly rocket science. The killer was clearly male which meant he didn't want to be carrying a bright pink case around- it would draw too much attention. So what would he do? He would try to get rid of it as quickly as possible. As he was driving, he could only fit down back streets wide enough for a car. Therefore, I checked every back street that fitted the bill and eventually found the case. Simple really.

There was everything in there: wash bag, change of clothes… But there was something missing; something everyone carries all the time. A phone.

I zipped up the suitcase and flung it across to the other side of the room before reaching inside my pocket for my phone. I'd better not text on mine- it may be recognisable- "Mrs Hudson!" I waited patiently but heard no answer. "Damn it." I whispered, sending a text to John.

COME TO 221B BAKER STREET NOW. IF COVENIANT. SH.

Wait… What if it isn't convenient? I pulled up the texts again.

IF INCONVENIENT, COME ANYWAY.

That wouldn't work either… What is the one thing that John cared about; the one thing that would get him to come and help me? I started to write again.

COULD BE DANGEROUS.

* * *

"You got a girlfriend?" He was trying to start a conversation and failing badly. I despised questions that didn't need to be asked. Of course I didn't have a girlfriend; couldn't he tell by my shoes?

"No." I decided to keep it simple. Bad idea.

"Oh, erm… Do you," He stalled, clearly embarrassed by something, "Have a boyfriend?"

What was he trying to get at? Questions about my relationship status… Oh. Did he? No, surely not. Just in case, I set the record straight anyway. "John, um... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I am flattered by your interest I'm-" I was amused by the fact that he was embarrassed. It's such a normal emotion and certainly one that I am not acquainted with.

"No… I'm not- that's not what I was implying." Awkwardness, however, was an emotion that I _was_ acquainted with. I had apparently touched a nerve on that particular subject and I'm not proud to say that it took my mind of the job in hand.

Needless to say I still kept one eye on the mirror in the corner, waiting. "How do you know what you're looking for?" John said, mouth half full with food. Hadn't he ever heard of table manners?

"Think John, just for once… Think. No-one on the street saw _any _suspicious cars in the area. The victim climbed in willingly, but she didn't know the driver. What is the one type of car in the whole of London that people rely on when they're lost, drunk or alone?"

"Bus?" I judged him silently, "Cab!"

"Good, I would attempt to say that you were smart but I did give you the answer."

"Genius." There it was again; why did he always say that?

I had almost turned my attention away when I saw the very thing I had been searching for flicker in the mirror. "Angelo!" He came rushing to my attention; such a simple man. "Bottle of white, quickly." He was back within seconds and poured the liquid into my wine glass. John looked shocked as I tipped it over my head; Angelo did not. "Remember the 'Headless Nun'?"

"Ah, now that was a case! Same again?"

"If you would." I knew what was coming, but the look on John's face just made it so much more amusing. Angelo grabbed me by the collar and threw me out of the door, screaming something along the lines of, 'Get out and stay out you drunken-' I didn't catch the rest.

* * *

People are stupid, really stupid. And I don't have any clue why. They look, but they never observe. And when you task them to think- really think- they become predictable.

But if you're clever, clever enough to realise just how stupid people are, you can manipulate them any way you want to. For instance, to choose a certain option- a certain pill.

He pushed a pill towards my side of the table, "You've got a choice; which, to my knowledge, makes me the nicest serial killer around. Did I just give you the bad pill, or the good one? Am I bluffing? I might even be double bluffing. You don't know, do you? Even the greatest minds pale when provided with a choice."

"It's just chance, a fifty-fifty shot. One of them could have chosen differently, chosen the good pill. So why would you risk it?" I paused; I didn't even need to think about this one, "You're dying."

"Aneurysm, right here." He tapped his head, "I could die at any moment. So tell me Mr Holmes, what have I got to lose? Every time I survive, I ensure the future life of my children; I die, well, the world keeps turning."

"But what about the victims, why them?"

"I picked easy targets, no point in a struggle. Just the ones that were drunk or lost."

"Complete strangers; you killed four complete strangers."

"No, I outlived them." He leaned in close as he said it, each letter resting on his tongue longer than it needed. "So, will I outlive you? Now's the time to decide Mr Holmes."

I racked my brain, no more stalling. Left or right? Would he push forward the good pill or the bad one? And then I realized the most crucial point, something that he relied on. They panic. They overthink. Take away thought and body language, all you are left with is chance. A fifty-fifty shot at life.

I knew that I couldn't truly pick a pill without some instinctive thought process, but it was worth a try. I picked up the pill on the left and moved it slowly towards my mouth, still searching for some sort of body language that could give away the choice.

Nothing.

* * *

Nothing. That was probably what was flowing through Jeff's mind as a bullet shot through his right lung. What did he have to think about? He was a guy who had been ready for death since the day he was told about his illness.

John fired the gun. In some ways I wish I had discovered whether I had won; whether I had taken the right pill. Then again, which was the _right _pill to take? I guess it depends on whether I was intending on living or not. I think I was; after all, I couldn't leave John without a flatmate now, could I?


	2. Nobody Read My Article On Tobacco Ash

The serial killer worked for the 'Black Lotus'; a secret crime organisation that focused mainly on the purchasing and selling of expensive items on the black market. In order to do so, they had more than a few allies. Banker, Eddie Van Coon, and reporter Brian Lukis had been helping the 'Black Lotus' ship over items from China to England so they could sell them on. Unfortunately for them, the organisation did not take kindly to thieves (strangely enough) and when both men brought back unaccounted items they were instantly hunted down. The assassin was a trained climber and was able to get into the two men's flats whilst they thought they were safe behind closed doors. The idiots on Detective work were still dawdling on whether it was suicide by the time I'd found the killer.

Soo Lin's- an ex-employee at the Antiques Museum- disappearance had coincided with the murders and as it turns out, she had been hiding from her brother after she had abandoned the 'Black Lotus' in an attempt to start a normal life. He soon came looking for her and if it wasn't for mine John's incompetence, she may have survived. She did manage to partly decode the writings on the train track wall; however, we still had no clue as to what book she used. Soo Lin also revealed the name of the killer- Zhi Zhu- and many secrets as to the running of the 'Black Lotus'.

That night, John and I sorted through every book in the victims' collection to try and figure out which was used in the code. I obviously needed complete silence however John kept endlessly trying to make conversation- he said it kept him awake. Most of the time I ignored him but he seemed sad when I did that.

"You've got a girlfriend." Okay, so _I _started the conversation, shoot me.

"No, not exactly, just someone that I may possibly imagine dating in the near future." We both chuckled.

"You should take her to that circus in town, one night only." I continued to sift through the mountain of books- was I missing something?

"Don't take offense, Sherlock, but please come back to me when you have any sort of knowledge on dating."

"I have knowledge on dating; I've not been living under a rock all my life." 'Don't take offense'. What was that supposed to mean anyway?

"Could have fooled me." He paused, "What's the fourth planet away from the-"

"Okay, I get it. I need to know more about the solar system. But why even bother? So the earth goes round the sun; it wouldn't make a difference to me if the sun went the earth or we all went round and round the garden. It's not important."

"It's not-" He sighed. What had I done wrong?

There was about five minutes of peaceful silence before he piped up. "You said you had knowledge on dating…"

"Yes, is it such a foreign thought to you that I may have, in the past, engaged in some sort of relationship with anyone at all?"

"Well, I just thought-"

"Don't think, John, you'll hurt yourself." That was about as much socialising I could handle. The rest of the night was spent with odd spatters of 'You found anything yet?' followed by a sarcastic remark that went something along the lines of; 'If I'd have found something don't you think I would be off to catch the killer by now'. If I had taken the time to care, I would probably be worried that I had upset him in some way.

* * *

Once I had worked out the code, I thought shutting down the organisation would be a piece of- let's say pie; after all, I never really liked cake. But I hadn't counted on the annoying fact that I now had acquaintances that could be used as leverage. I found John in an abandoned tramway tunnel along with his 'new not-really-a girlfriend'. They thought that John was me… John! I don't even see how it is possible to make that mistake. If anything, the fact that he has no intellectual prowess at all should be a decision-clinching factor. Luckily, however, I managed to save them. Well, I got strangled whilst John freed himself and pushed Sarah away from the deadly device's firing line. But I distracted them, so I suppose you could give me the credit.

I don't think he saw Sarah after that.

To fill time, he spends his nights at 221B blogging about our 'adventures'.

"'The Blind Banker'… Seriously?" I scrolled down his computer screen, frowning at the fact that he made me seem like a character from a teenage novel. John was in the kitchen, trying to scavenge items from the cupboard. I just hoped that he didn't find my experiment on male semen- that would be a hard one to explain. I chuckled to myself; I do believe that I just made a joke.

"Yeah, because of-"

"Yes, yes. I get it John I just don't see why it has to have a title at all."

"Because that what the readers want." He stared at me furiously; did it really take him that long to realise? "That's my computer."

"No! Really?" I loved sarcasm; it was just a beautiful concept.

I tried to protest but he shut the laptop lid and slid it under his chair. "You can't just take things, Sherlock. How did you get into it anyway, it was password-"

"Yes, well, it wasn't quantum physics."

"Rocket science… It wasn't-" He sighed.

"Yes, that's what I said."

He went back to the kitchen and put the kettle on, "You want tea?"

"No, I'm thinking." I tapped my fingers on the desk; I was still hung up on the fact that I had let the leader get away.

"About what?" I huffed, what part of 'thinking' did he not understand. I flicked my mind back to the previous case.

I knew that General Shan wasn't the ring leader; she wasn't clever enough to head a giant crime organisation like the 'Black Lotus'. But I'd still let her get away. And now I'd have no hope of destroying the group. I decided not to dwell on it.

"Have you finished your trip to your 'mind palace' yet?" I could see he was being spiteful.

"I was thinking; thinking doesn't require the use of-" I suddenly realised how stupid it sounded; maybe I should find another name. "That place." Inventive Sherlock… Inventive.

"I apologise, how silly of me for even suggesting it." Sarcasm was wrung through his voice; it was only beautiful when I did it.

"I'm bored."

"And I'm hungry; since we have no food whatsoever in the cupboards, I'll take a walk and pick up a takeaway. You want anything specific." I didn't give an answer so he took his coat and left swiftly.

* * *

Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored.

I wanted a cigarette, badly.

I wanted to feel the rush of something. Anything.

My fingers tapped rhythms on the chair arms and my brain swirled around in my head.

Why was John taking so long?

Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored…

I heard the front door open downstairs. I heard the footsteps climb up the rickety staircase. I regretted not telling him which takeaway to get now because I really didn't want Chinese food.

John came in bearing a glum expression and a bag of what smelt like Indian food. "Why so glum, chum." I giggled to myself, "That's a saying right?"

"How many nicotine patches are you wearing?" He looked genuinely worried, which was odd, why should he care about me?

"Four." I smiled and reached over to grab the nearest pot. It smelt good.

"I'll go and get forks." He mumbled as he walked over to the kitchen.

* * *

We sat watching Midsomer Murders, which John initially thought was a bad idea. But after a while it was clear that he found it completely hilarious when I shouted the answers at the TV.

"You do know that DCI Barnaby can't hear you, right?" He gasped between tears of laughter.

"I am perfectly aware of that fact, John. But how can he not know that the murderer was the widow we saw at the start?"

"I have no idea; I mean it's completely obvious."

"Always with the sarcasm."

"I find it's the easiest way to engage with you." His attention wavered as he stared at something on the bookshelf. "Please tell me that's not Cluedo. Oh, could this day get any better?"

"No, John, I played it once and it was the worst game I have played since I tried Jenga in 1994."

"We are playing this, whether you like it or not." He cleared the table and laid out the board and pieces.

I'd rather not talk about what happened. Just that the Cluedo board ended up pinned to the wall above the fireplace with my pocketknife. And I never want to play it again.

* * *

"Face it, you lost." John chuckled as he put what was left of the game back into its box and turning the TV back on before sitting on the sofa beside me.

"I didn't lose, it was a flawed game."

"Right, okay. So it was the games fault."

"No, I was merely saying that-" He interrupted me.

"Sometimes I wish you'd just shut-up." Rude. "No, I didn't mean it… Look, I like it when you talk. You make so little sense that I just can't help but listen. But sometimes, just sometimes, silence is a good thing." He sat up on the chair, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me in. At first, I didn't really know what to do. I mean, I knew what to do, but I hadn't thought that he- you know.

To be honest, I don't even know.

It was awkward and didn't last very long. I don't know how good my kissing was but I can imagine that I'm not really seen as experienced. He pulled away gingerly and stormed upstairs to his bedroom.

In an attempt to prove that I am not out of touch with reality… Boy, that escalated quickly.


End file.
